His chapter entitled "The Evangelical Church of the Circuit" is an insightful but one-dimensional triptych through the party world. Signorile draws his conclusions from personal interviews, ad hoc surveys, other research, and his own experience at Jeffrey Sanker's 1996 White Party weekend in Palm Springs--perhaps the most indulgent of all the major party weekends--where Mike and I attended several parties together.

Signorile's criticism of vain and self-absorbed gay men is poignant because all of us, to one degree or another, are guilty of his charges. His perspective is interesting, and cause for a healthy dose of introspection. There are, in fact, too many gay men trapped in a low self-image who get overly involved in drugs and who let the party scene define them. Signorile found a number of them to talk with, and quotes extensively. It is a sobering, lopsided picture which distorts a slice of gay life and plays dangerously into the hands of those who would shut down our parties and clubs, outlaw Gay Pride, force HIV registration, and deny us equal rights. The ripple effect of this distortion became evident in Daniel J. Kelves' review of Signorile's book in the New York Times Book Review on May 25, in which he reduced the circuit to "... a series of large gay dance parties held in different places, where they used one kind of drug to heighten their sexual energies and another to relax their sphincter muscles." Is this our epitaph?

Within the past year, it has become politically correct--among a small group of gay authors, columnists, and editors--to criticize the excesses of a small fraction of gay men--The Partiers. The first punch, oddly enough, was thrown by former arch-conservative Congressman Bob Dornan, who peeled the lid off Cherry Jubilee, a party which took place in a government building in April 1996. The ensuing debate reached the floor of the House of Representatives. The tipping point seems to have occurred around the time of last year's GMHC Morning Party, when The New York Times and several gay publications in New York ran articles in which GMHC was condemned for glamorizing drug use and promoting irresponsible behavior which leads to HIV transmission. The dust settled for a few months, only to be blown away for good in Andrew Sullivan's epic essay "When Plagues End" which ran in the New York Times Magazine on November 10, 1996. That Sunday morning, Times subscribers across America choked on their Fruit Loops reading Sullivan's lurid account of the Saint At Large Black Party.
Advocate columnist Gabriel Rotello threw down the gauntlet around the same time with his dirty-party-money editorial ("A deal with the devil", October 15), a scathing indictment of the non-profit AIDS service organizations which accept funds from benefit dance parties where drugs are used. Rotello's assertion that circuit parties, per se, are a petri dish for HIV transmission sent a shockwave through non-profit boardrooms. Now The Advocate chimes in with "Men Behaving Badly" by David Heitz (7/8/97), and the needless marginalization of The Partiers goes on. Both The Advocate and Out (the venue for much of Signorile's brooding) have utterly failed to advance a balanced discussion of one of the more interesting sociocultural developments in our community, much less provide life-saving information about safer partying which could save lives at the very parties they have been sponsoring.

Criticizing the burgeoning party trend is easy enough; its indulgences, excesses, and associated superficiality make easy targets. Justifying partying as a worthwhile social activity is almost impossible, but hardly necessary. For all the effort we devote to functioning in a society that still largely rejects us, is it not surprising that we have evolved a few uniquely gay rituals to celebrate that one aspect of our being which is so reviled--our sexuality? Since the earliest "fag masquerade balls" of the late 1920's, gay men have created social occasions to congregate in the major urban centers. Despite the hard-fought advances in visibility and equal rights we enjoy now as the legacy of our bold predecessors, there are still few opportunities for lesbians and gay men to congregate in large numbers, particularly outside of the urban centers. Gay-oriented theatre and film programs can draw large numbers together, as well as gay rodeos, athletic competitions, and organized tours and cruises. Each time, we build upon shared experiences--intellectual, artistic, athletic, social, and sexual--that bring us closer to our real selves. It is truly rare--sometimes once a year at a Pride parade, rally, or party--that thousands of gay men and/or lesbians assemble in the same space. We need more of these occasions, not fewer of them.

The reasons why people participate in gay dance parties and other cultural events are varied and often complex. Why do thousands of people congregate when someone spots the image of Jesus in a breakfast roll? What is it that has made Riverdance a blockbuster sensation? What drives the fundamental human need to congregate in large numbers? Rituals of cultural expression under microscopic surveillance (e.g., Signorile's binoculars) appear only as perfunctory motions; theatrics without transformation; a silly waste of time. But they are an essential part of the fabric from which our lives are sewn together.

The AIDS epidemic is closely associated with substance abuse. However, there is no evidence to suggest that present day circuit parties, specifically, are any more or less of a venue for HIV transmission than the neighborhood gay bar, bath houses, adult theaters and book stores, highway rest areas, or Internet chat rooms for that matter. The 100,000 or so gay men who attended so-called circuit parties last year walked in with both their wallets and their eyes open. Safer sex messages are ubiquitous and condoms are distributed at every major event. There is no denying that people attend dance parties to get laid, and some succeed on a regular basis. However, playfulness, camaraderie, and a charge of sexual energy are widely regarded as safer and more realistic outcomes of a party than sex itself. For some, partying has become a proxy for sex, and this might help to explain why so many people spend so much time and money enjoying the party scene.

Anti-drug messages are increasingly pervasive at parties, and at some events the level of conflicting values is stunning. Volunteer hosts and security guards wearing "No Drugs" T-shirts walk the perimeters of dance floors packed with shirtless, Ecstasy-induced revelers. Neither side seems to be looking the other way, though. Is there a middle ground where both good and evil can wear the same clothes, or will the dance floor become a battleground for your soul?
Several of Signorile's assertions are simply wrong. His statement that hotels, motels, and resorts become "virtual bathhouses" on circuit party weekends is wildly inaccurate. He exaggerates the impact of the party circuit on the whole of gay society, and his suggestion that some men participate in the circuit in order to remain secretive and in the closet is particularly insidious. Finally, ketamine is not just a horse tranquilizer. This is serious mis-information.

I do not see the gay party tradition as a destructive activity emblematic of a vain and superficial sub-culture, but as an evolved form of cultural expression rooted in the desire to connect with a larger energy. The gay party tradition is something to be appreciated and nurtured with all the creativity, inclusiveness, and sense of adventure that we can manage. The untold side of Signorile's story are the tales of new friendships and closely knit groups of men who travel together, plan elaborate costumes, and generally look out for one another. For some, the parties are a lifeline to joy and self-affirmation.

Where was Signorile for the GRGRF Street Dance in Boston? The Red Party in Columbus? The new Steel Party in Pittsburgh? The Halloween Party in New Orleans? Gay Day at Disney? The Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras in Sydney? The perspective that one gains from traveling around to these and many other events, gazing over dance floor after dance floor is breathtaking. Although there are pockets of bad energy, the larger picture is not one of escapism or denial, but one of therapeutic recreation and empowerment. Signorile's analysis flies in the face of the army of lovers who lead reasonably balanced lives, work hard, strive for meaningful relationships, and who enjoy a good party now and then.

Like a river that charts its own course, the celebration will continue. It has been going on for 20 years now, and as long as record labels and studio artists keep pumping out fabulous dance music, there will be gay boys dancing to it. For those who like to party--and especially those who create parties--a good amount of constructive criticism is long overdue. For some, the result may be taking a step away from the party world. For others, myself included, the result may be a redoubling of time and energy to help create, promote, volunteer for, and participate in safer, high quality events.

Ultimately, much of Signorile's criticism rings hollow, because it gets lost in the cacophony of guilt and shame that we have slowly and steadfastly learned to ignore. When the sirens fade and the real healing and prevention work begins anew, it will be time to reconcile tough questions from a loving and constructive platform: When does recreational drug use cease being recreational? How can we more effectively disseminate information about drugs--not to promote their use, but to explain their risks and to help prevent abuse? How can the parties become better outreach and education tools in the fight against HIV/AIDS? Where is the line between personal responsibility and public safety? How can we teach young men and women not to go overboard with sex and drugs? How can we preserve and broaden the notion of gay celebration? When can the shame end, and dignity begin?